Page 7 of Tanglewood Magic (The Three Sisters 2)
Medea beamed at her. “You’ve done it! Your quadrant is empty. You’ve won the game.”
But Zelaria shook her head. “Foul play! The rules clearly state that competitors can enchant the objects in one sector only.”
Circe laughed. “I did. My transfiguration was of the sapling, layered with a mind-control spell to suggest to the rock badger what I wanted it to do. Once it left my sector, it was on its own.”
“I believe there is no rule against it,” Medea said. “I declare Circe and Rhys my winners!”
ChapterFour
Rhys was disappointed when Zelaria and Tamsin turned their backs and marched away from the board without even offering them congratulations. Poor sports. It was a solid game and all in good fun. But then, Zelaria looked like she hadn’t smiled in years, and her partner was equally melancholy.
In an effort to lighten the mood, he shook hands with the queen, Tavyss, Isis, and Brody and complimented each of them thoroughly. “Brilliantly played!”
Only after the group started for the dining room did he face Circe. He should compliment her play as well, but Fates, he could hardly look at her in that dress. Her beauty threatened to burn him. He’d respected her from the day she’d started working for him. It was clear from the beginning she had a strong work ethic and was honorable and trustworthy. Now that she’d shown him she was also a talented witch, he desired her more than ever—and that was before she’d gone and put on a dress that skimmed every curve and put her breasts on display.
A woman had no business being that lovely, intelligent, and talented. He thought his heart might leap through his chest and ask her to dance.
But it was a terrible idea to pursue Circe. Most of Darnuith was circumspect when it came to Medea’s reign. He heard the whispers. The Fates may have selected her as queen, but the people hadn’t welcomed her with open arms. All three sisters were still considered outsiders.
And while his fellow witches and wizards might forgive him for giving her a job, he understood it would be an uphill battle if he courted her. His apothecary counted on the trust and loyalty of Mistcraven’s witches and wizards.
Not that anyone else’s opinion would stop him if there weren’t more to the equation. He’d take the risk if there wasn’t the chance that Queen Medea would find him lacking. Plus, everyone would be watching—or trying to anyway. Disappoint Circe, and things could get awful for him. He hated politics, but it was an unquestionable truth. The scrutiny that would come with a relationship with Circe was not something he wanted to sign up for.
Oh, who was he kidding? None of that would be enough to keep him from her if he weren’t a damned coward. It was reliving the past he feared most. He pushed that bit down deep. He couldn’t face it. Not now.
“We should join the others in the dining room,” she said. He’d been so lost in thought that he hadn’t even noticed the room had cleared out and they were now alone. She gave him a sidelong look, her fingers tangled in front of her hips. “Rhys… is everything okay?”
He’d been a complete asshole to her this entire night. If nothing else, he had to set things straight. “Circe… I should have told you before, your dress is lovely. Please don’t take my foul mood personally. It has more to do with me than with you.”
He gave her a curt nod, then turned on his heel and headed for the dining room.
“Oh no, you don’t,” Circe blurted. She caught up to him and turned him by the elbow. “What does that even mean? Three days ago, I thought we… shared a moment, and then you made it clear you only wanted a friendship. Fine, but then you see me and treat me like you either hate me or are offended by me. Aside from the game, which you did seem to enjoy, I thought you were counting down the seconds in your head of how long you had to spend with me. Please explain how this is all about you and not me? Because where I’m standing, it feels personal.”
He took a deep breath and blew it out, the tension in his face and shoulders going with it. Everything about her drew him in. The soft blush of her cheeks, the intense blue of her eyes, the way she held her spine straight and her chin up. She was no wilting flower. His behavior may have confused her, even hurt her, but she knew her worth and wanted answers.
He licked his lips and planned to say something vague like wanting to keep a professional distance or it not being the right time, but somehow, the only thing that came out was the one thing he hadn’t wanted to share, almost as if her presence was a talisman designed to elicit the truth.
“I was married once,” he said, his throat thick with bygone memories. “When I look at you, it reminds me of what it was to feel something. And I just can’t risk that again.”
This time when he strode away, she let him go.
* * *
Why had he mentioned June?Rhys pushed his food around his plate with his fork, regretting the sudden onslaught of honesty. It made no sense. He hadn’t wanted to think about it. Hades, it was ancient history. Now there was no taking it back.
Beside him, Circe was carrying on a conversation with her sisters as if the revelation hadn’t fazed her one bit. He listened in, hoping none of her words were about her moody and temperamental boss.
“How long can you put it off?” Circe asked the queen.
Medea squeezed Tavyss’s hand. “As long as I have to. I’m the queen.”
“Put what off?” Rhys mumbled.
“Eleanor and Brynhoff of Paragon have sent multiple invitations to the palace. They want to meet the new witch queen of Darnuith. But if they agree to a meeting, it’s going to cause complications,” Circe said.
“No one outside Darnuith knows Medea’s mate is a dragon,” Zelaria said, a note of gossip in her voice. “Or that he is the eldest brother of the king and queen of Paragon.”
The clank of Rhys’s fork hitting his plate seemed to echo in the room. “Sorry,” he mumbled, regripping the utensil. He’d known Tavyss was a dragon but wasn’t aware of his royal ties to Paragon. If he was the eldest heir, the Paragonian throne was rightfully his. What were he and Medea even doing here?
